Guts

So another city; the thrill of arriving somewhat dulled by the endless journey from the airport to downtown.

Crépusculaire

Crépusculaire

I go eat but in this place I do not know one word of the language – not even hello.

I mimic eating and as a result the nice ladies bring me this.

It is a furiously boiling bowl of guts.

It is a furiously boiling bowl of guts.

When it calms down a bit, I spot lumps of gut sausage and quite a lot of pig ear. I gobble it down with a lot of grunting, thinking thus to pay tribute to the noble animal that ended up in my bowl.

I’ll lug the guts into the neighbor room.

I’ll lug the guts into the neighbor room.

Very cheap.

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3 Responses to Guts

  1. Mike Taylor says:

    Mr. Soul…

  2. Mike Taylor says:

    Next time “why don’t you ask her ?” (what’s in the soup).

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